Told In A Garden
by more secrets
Summary: [Complete] One decision changes everything. "Parallel-universe" concept... what are the repercussions of one little change? Warning: character death discussed. HC, of course.
1. chapter 1

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I own neither the CSI: Miami characters, nor the 'Wheel of Time' book concept. I own the books, but only because I went and bought them at the bookstore! I am making no money from any of these stories or the use of the characters or ideas. I also don't own the title "Told in a Garden," and am making no profit off of its use.  
  
Author's Note: This is a nasty one, but this is what came out of my mind as a sequel for "Out of Death, Life." I guess the vicious side of my personality has come out from the shadows now. One piece of fiction I've read suggests that there is an endless number of "other worlds," or parallel worlds, and that these parallel worlds spring to life with each decision that is made. We decide to turn right instead of left at the next corner, and in this world, we do turn right. But in the New World, which has now come into being because of that decision, we turn left. What happens then, in that world? These pieces are interwoven to show those "worlds of 'if'".

* * *

"Mom? Can we go to the garden this afternoon?" Her daughter's voice floated down the stairs and recalled Calleigh from her reverie. She stared out the window as she thought, vaguely wondering why this should be such a hard question to answer. "Mom?"  
  
"You know, I think that would be a very good idea. Can you call the florist about the roses?"  
  
"Sure. Same color as usual?" Calleigh heard her daughter dialing the cordless telephone to order their usual "bucket" of flowers. She smiled at her daughter's take-charge nature. From being born two weeks before her expected due date, to listening to advice from others but then doing what she wanted on most matters, Lisabella had never been one to sit quietly in the background and let others dictate how things would go. Footsteps overhead told her that Lisabella had finished the telephone call and gone back to packing, and Calleigh turned back to the map of the eastern states that she had been studying.  
  
Later that afternoon, Calleigh let her daughter drive them to the florist and then to the garden. The late-summer sun filtered through mature oak trees shading the long drive from the granite sign by the main highway back to the parking lot. It almost seemed that they were driving through a tunnel of green and yellow-gold. They walked side-by-side up the path to the small office and went in, Calleigh relishing the air conditioning against the Miami humidity.  
  
"Calleigh, it's so good to see you. How are you, Lisabella? You must be getting ready to leave for school soon, right?" The woman who had come out from the back office hugged first Calleigh and then Lisabella as Calleigh stepped back to let her daughter answer.  
  
"Hey, Susan, I'm fine. Physically, yeah, I'm ready, I'm all packed and so on, and we leave tomorrow to drive up to Pennsylvania, but mentally I just don't know. I hadn't realized it was such a big step until I got right up to it."  
  
"I can understand that! It was hard for me, too, and I think every kid goes through the same fears. Don't worry, you'll do fine. Are you ready for it, Calleigh?"  
  
"Oh, Susan, I don't know. You know what it's like to send your kid off, you're ready for them to be out of the house, but at the same time, you don't want to let go of them. How are you doing lately? And how's Carolyn?" Calleigh and Carolyn had become good friends over the years as Calleigh visited the garden, and she had felt for Carolyn's daughter Susan as they both watched Carolyn slide into the darkness of Alzheimer's disease.  
  
"Well, she has her good days and her bad days, but I'm afraid it's been a bad week so far. Every now and then she'll seem to be 'all there,' and then it'll disappear so fast. Silver can usually at least get her to respond, but he's getting old too."  
  
"He's a great bird, though. Listen, why don't we do lunch when I get back next week? You can fill me in on how to cope with an empty nest, and we'll have a good time out."  
  
The three women chatted for a few more minutes, then finished their conversation. Calleigh and Lisabella began wandering through the garden pruning, pulling weeds, watering, and then leaving a single dark crimson rose at the base of each plant they had tended. Lisabella paid special attention, Calleigh noted, to the copper-blossomed rose dedicated to Lisa Simmons and the white one for Belle King. They passed slowly through the roses and the other perennials, and wound up in the section reserved for trees and large plantings. 


	2. chapter 2

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?

* * *

"Dad? Can we go to the garden this afternoon?" His daughter's voice floated out to him, and Horatio stared at the engine before him as he thought, vaguely wondering why this should be such a hard question to answer. "Dad?"  
  
He pulled his head out from under the hood and looked up at her leaning out her open bedroom window above the garage. "You know, I think that would be a very good idea. Can you call the florist about the roses?"  
  
"Sure. Same color as usual?" He heard her dialing the cordless telephone to order their usual "bucket" of flowers, and smiled at her inherited take- charge nature. From her sun-blond hair and easy smile to her dedication, Lisabella was nearly a carbon copy of her mother. He heard her hang up the telephone and go back to packing, as he continued checking over his personal vehicle before their long drive the next day.  
  
Later that afternoon, Horatio let her drive them to the florist and then to the garden. The late-summer sun filtered through mature oak trees shading the long drive from the granite sign by the main highway back to the parking lot. It almost seemed that they were driving through a tunnel of green and yellow-gold. They walked side-by-side up the path to the small office and went in, even Florida-born Horatio relishing the air conditioning against the Miami humidity.  
  
"Horatio, it's so good to see you again. How are you, Lisabella? You must be getting ready to leave for school soon, right?" The woman who had come out from the back office shook hands with Horatio and then hugged Lisabella as Horatio stepped back to let the young woman answer.  
  
"Hi, Susan, I'm fine. Physically, yeah, I'm ready, I'm all packed and so on, and we leave tomorrow to drive up to Pennsylvania, but mentally I just don't know. I hadn't realized it was such a big step until I got right up to it."  
  
"I can understand that! It was hard for me, too, and I think every kid goes through the same fears. Don't worry, you'll do fine. Are you ready for it, Horatio?"  
  
"Susan, I don't know. You know what it's like to send your kid off, you're ready for them to go out and become their own person, but at the same time you don't want to let go of them. How are you doing lately? And how's Carolyn?" Horatio and Carolyn had become good friends over the years that he had visited the garden, and he had felt for her daughter Susan as they both watched Carolyn slide in to the darkness of Alzheimer's disease.  
  
"Well, she has her good days and her bad days, but I'm afraid it's been a bad week so far. Every now and then she'll seem to be 'all there,' and then it'll disappear so fast. Silver can usually at least get her to respond, but he's getting old too."  
  
"He's a great bird, though. The next time you see your mother, please say hello to her from me. Even if she doesn't know who I am, she'll know someone is thinking of her."  
  
The three finished their conversation, and Horatio and Lisabella began wandering through the garden pruning, pulling weeds, watering, and then leaving a single dark crimson rose at the base of each plant they had tended. Lisabella paid special attention, he noticed, to the copper- blossomed rose dedicated to Lisa Simmons and the white one for Belle King. They passed slowly through the roses and the other perennials, and wound up in the section reserved for trees and large plantings. 


	3. chapter 3

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Calleigh guided them to a park bench shaded by a young tree with delicate leaves of green, crimson, orange, and purple. She and Lisabella sat down, the younger woman slouching down and relaxing as only teenagers can. They sat in silence for a moment, Calleigh closing her eyes and listening to the garden around her.  
  
"You know, the first time I kissed your father was on this very bench."  
  
"Mo-om!!! Too much information! I don't need to hear that!" Lisabella sat up for a moment, then slouched back again. "What was he like? And what happened? You said you'd tell me, but you never really did."  
  
"Oh, kiddo. Your dad would be so proud of you," Calleigh told her daughter as tears threatened to fill her eyes. "You want to know what he was like? He was just like you. Horatio Clemens Caine was probably the most dedicated, loyal, big-hearted, and loving man that I have ever known. And when he focused on someone or something, no matter how small, that was the only thing that existed for him at that moment. The world could end, and if he was concentrating on something at the time, I'm not sure he'd notice. It's the same way you are."  
  
"What attracted you to him most?"  
  
"Why all the questions?"  
  
Lisabella sighed. "I guess because I'm going away from home now, and I feel like I don't know everything I should. It's...I never thought I'd say this, but it's a little scary, that I'm about to launch myself out of the nest, and I'm just not ready to be an adult. Were you ready?"  
  
"Actually, I was, but I left the nest for different reasons. What attracted me to your father the most?" Calleigh thought for a moment as a soft breeze whispered through the tree above them, tossing the branches lightly. "I guess the fact that he let people be who they were, rather than trying to force them into what or who he thought they should be. You have to admit that he had a pretty oddball group working for him. A blond firearms expert; a medical examiner with an uncommon empathy for her clients; a swimming star of Russian-Cuban heritage with a brilliant scientific mind; and a youngster from upstate New York who looked like he'd dressed at the Salvation Army but never missed a thing in either his personal or his professional life. It shouldn't have worked, but I think it did because he let us be who we were instead of making us change."  
  
"He sounds perfect," whispered Lisabella after a moment.  
  
"No, he wasn't that, none of us are. He was incredibly proud, but in a good way, and incredibly stubborn. But at the same time, those faults were good for him. It meant that if there was even the slightest hint that he had done something in the wrong way, or taken a shortcut, he would bend over backward to show that in fact he hadn't done so. Having a name for fairness and correctness was very important to that man. And oh, the stubbornness..." Calleigh's voice trailed off as she remembered the hard words, the last words, they had traded.  
  
"Mom? You still there?"  
  
"Sorry, hon. The stubbornness. There were times when all the evidence pointed to someone's guilt, and Horatio just didn't agree. He'd insist that there was something else, and he'd drive us all like slaves until we found that one last bit that put a whole new slant on the picture. I don't know how many times the entire team put in all-nighters coming up with the right picture from the evidence, not the one that it seemed to show."  
  
"But that's a good thing, isn't it? I mean, if the evidence seemed to point to one person, but really pointed to someone else, then the innocent person would have been arrested for something they didn't do."  
  
"Oh yes, ninety-nine times out of a hundred his stubbornness was exactly what was needed." Another breeze touched the branches above her, and a crimson leaf separated from its branch and floated down to the bright green grass around the bench. "I just wish he could see you now, and know what you're up to. Going off to college tomorrow, so far from home, and studying forensics yet. I guess you didn't have a chance, growing up with the whole CSI team raising you, did you?"  
  
"But it's what I'm interested in. It's all like a puzzle, and when you put the pieces together in the right way, it's a perfect picture."  
  
"He was like that too. He couldn't stand not knowing why, or how."  
  
"So what happened?" Lisabella sat up straight on the bench and turned to face her mother. "What did happen? All you've ever said is that he was killed accidentally." 


	4. chapter 4

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Horatio guided them to a park bench shaded by a low tree, the base of the tree and the bench surrounded by small shrubs covered with intense purple blooms. He and Lisabella sat down, the young woman slouching down and relaxing as only teenagers can. They sat in silence a moment, Horatio closing his eyes and listening to the drone of the bumblebees visiting the nearby flowers.  
  
"You know, this very bench is where your mother and I realized we both felt the same way about each other."  
  
"You still miss her, don't you?" Lisabella sat up for a moment to look at him, then slouched back again. "What was she like? And what happened? You always said you'd tell me someday, but you never did."  
  
"Oh, Bella. Your mother would be so proud of you," Horatio told her, putting on his ever-present sunglasses as he spoke. "You want to know what she was like? She was just a smaller version of you. Calleigh Marie Caine was probably the most loyal, big-hearted, and loving woman that I have ever known. She always paid more attention to others, and what they needed, than she did to herself. And when she focused on someone or something, no matter how small, that was the only thing that existed for her at that moment. There were times when, if she was concentrating on something at work, the lab could have blown up around her and she wouldn't have noticed. It's the same way you are when you get into something that fascinates you."  
  
"What attracted you to her most?"  
  
"Why all the questions?"  
  
Lisabella sighed. "I guess because I'm going away from home now, and I feel like I don't know everything I should. And I wish, now that I'm almost an adult, that I had really known my mother."  
  
"I felt the same way at your age, and for the same reason. What attracted me to your mother the most?" Horatio thought for a moment as a fat bee flew from one flower to another behind him. "Well, the easy answer is her smile. She had the most wonderful smile. Sometimes I'll see you smile, and it's as if she's in there inside you somewhere. But really, I guess the fact that she had the courage to be who she was, rather than letting people pigeonhole her into what she should or shouldn't be. I mean, here's this tiny little blond with a perfect Southern lilt, you'd expect her to be able to whip up a pitcher of sweet tea but not be able to do much else. But every single case we got, she was out there in the dirt, and the mud, and one time with leeches crawling on her, and she would never let it get to her. She never acted like a "girl" just because that was what someone expected her to do. Oh, she'd be the perfect Southern belle if she thought it would get someone off their guard, but it was just another side of her. She was comfortable with who and what she was, and that made the rest of the world comfortable with it as well."  
  
"She sounds perfect," whispered Lisabella after a moment.  
  
"No, she wasn't that, none of us are. She was a fierce little thing, and sometimes she'd let things get to her about a case if it wasn't coming together. She hated having anything left hanging, and sometimes that fierceness would come home from work with her. It made things difficult sometimes..." Horatio's voice trailed off as he remembered the hard words, the last words, they had traded.  
  
"Dad? You still there?"  
  
"Sorry, Bella. Your mother was never one to hide her emotions. As much as she tried sometimes, it was always obvious how she was feeling. There were times when the evidence didn't show the picture she thought it should. She'd drive herself nearly to exhaustion trying to put it together. Not that she would try to force it into the wrong picture, it was simply that sometimes she'd try to paint a whole watercolor when she only had two colors on the palette. I lost count of the all-nighters she worked, for case after case, trying to find that one last little bit of evidence that would put the whole thing together. Even when she did come home, in a mood like that she wouldn't be able to sleep through the whole night. She was so dedicated, and so relentless about her cases."  
  
"But that's a good thing, isn't it? I mean, if the evidence was there, but hidden, then being stubborn like that would be a good thing."  
  
"Oh yes, that patented Calleigh Duquesne, and then Calleigh Caine, ferocity was definitely a good thing." A light breeze gently shook the flowers around the bench, and a spicy floral scent rose off the purple flowers and eddied on the hot humid air. "I just wish she could see you now, and know what you're up to. Going off to college tomorrow, so far from home, and studying forensics yet. I guess you didn't have a chance for anything else, growing up with the whole CSI team raising you, did you?"  
  
"But it's what I'm interested in. It's all like a puzzle, and when you put the pieces together in the right way, it's a perfect picture."  
  
"She was like that too. She couldn't stand not knowing why, or how."  
  
"So what happened?" Lisabella sat up straight on the bench and turned to face her father. "What did happen? All you've ever said is that she was killed accidentally." 


	5. chapter 5

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Calleigh closed her eyes and shook her head, not wanting to tell her daughter what she had kept locked up inside her for so many long lonely years. Finally, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking at her hands as she spoke.  
  
"Well, that stubbornness I told you about was one of your father's best tools, but sometimes it made things harder than they needed to be. Sometimes he'd get an idea in his head and not want to let go of it, even when there was no reason to hold on to it. The worst times that happened were the few times we argued. And what happened was one of those times." She sat for a minute, collecting her thoughts.  
  
"It was right after your fourth birthday, I don't know if you remember that. He'd slept badly, he'd had nightmares about something. We both got up with bad moods that morning, and had an argument over something stupid, probably who had used all the margarine and put the empty tub back in the fridge..." She quit speaking as a tear flowed over and down her cheek.  
  
"Oh, mom, I'm sorry. You don't have to finish. It's okay."  
  
Calleigh reached over and patted her daughter's hand comfortingly, then left her hand there, as if human contact would help her finish her story. "No, you deserve to know this. Anyway...we had an argument that I don't even remember, and he said he'd rather go in to work early and be hungry than stay home and argue with me all morning. So he grabbed the keys and slammed out the door. And about an hour later, Tripp came and knocked on the door just as I was getting ready to take you to the sitter."  
  
The memory of Tripp's hesitant, sad face that morning came back to her as she sat there in the shade of the tree, and destroyed the last shreds of her composure. She bent forward, burying her face in her hands, her forehead nearly touching her knees, and rocked back and forth in her grief. As if from a distance she felt Lisabella's arm go across her back, the girl's other hand rubbing her arm in a comforting rhythm. The same rhythm, Calleigh realized, that she herself had used so many times to soothe her child. Now her child was using it to soothe her. She took a deep breath, and sat back up.  
  
"Instead of going straight to work, he had stopped off at this little flower store along the way, and gone in to get a huge bunch of yellow tulips. He came out, stepped off the curb, and was hit by a speeding driver going the wrong way down a one-way street. The florist heard the squeal of brakes, then heard a car accelerating away, and went outside to find Horatio lying in the street. There was nothing that could be done."  
  
"But did they find the guy?"  
  
Calleigh let out a bitter laugh. "We found the 'guy,' honey. They wouldn't let us work the site while he was there, and they wouldn't let Alexx do the autopsy, but the other team processed everything to do with him and then turned it all over to us. There was a bank right down the street from the florist, and they had a security camera that showed some of the street. So we got the license plate and the make of the car, and Speed matched the skid marks to a specific tire type. Eric analyzed the paint chips left on your father's clothes and matched them to the same model car as the one in the bank video. All of that came together into a watertight case that Horatio would have been proud of. We didn't even have to take it to court."  
  
"Did the guy confess?"  
  
"Actually, her mother turned her in. The 'guy' was a 16-year-old girl who had just gotten her driver's license the day before. She'd been given the car as a present, and was on her way to school. She had a debate team meeting before her classes started, and she took a wrong turn, went the wrong way down the one-way street, and figured if she drove faster she'd get down it faster and not get in trouble. She was so afraid of what she'd done she just kept driving. And all I can think of is that it didn't have to happen at all. If we hadn't argued... God, kiddo, I am so sorry. I took your father away from you..." Calleigh dissolved in tears again, her blue- green eyes filling up before the wracking sobs claimed her again. 


	6. chapter 6

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Horatio closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to tell his daughter what he had kept locked up inside for so many long, lonely years. Finally he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking off into the distance as he spoke.  
  
"Well, I said before that her ferocity was a good thing. Most of the time it was, but sometimes it made her life difficult. She'd get an idea in her head and not want to let go of it, even when there was no reason to hold on to it. The worst times that that happened were the few times we argued. And what happened was one of those times." He sat for a minute, collecting his thoughts.  
  
"It was right after your fourth birthday, I don't know if you remember that. She'd slept badly, she was having dreams that were apparently her subconscious trying to tell her something about the evidence. We both got up in bad moods and one of us picked a fight over something small. I don't even know what any more, most likely who was going to do the grocery shopping that night or something..." He quit speaking as his voice began to shake.  
  
His daughter reached over and took his hand. He himself had never been a "touchy" person, but she had inherited her mother's need to make physical contact. "Dad, I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me the rest of it. It's okay."  
  
He took off his sunglasses and passed one hand over his face, rubbing it across his eyes as if to scrub away threatening emotions. "No, you deserve to know this. Anyway, we had an argument over something I don't even remember. I told her she was being too stubborn and there was nothing to be arguing about. She said she'd rather go into work early and get some coffee on the way than stay home and argue with me all morning. So she grabbed the keys and slammed out the door. And about an hour later, Tripp knocked on the door just as I was getting ready to take you to the sitter."  
  
The memory of Tripp's hesitant, sad face that morning came back to him as he sat there in the shade of the tree. Tripp had helped him survive the losses of Al, Horatio's mentor, and Ray, his brother, and had then been at his side on the happiest day of his life, the day he had married Calleigh. And then, that awful morning, there Tripp was again, once more trying to ease the pain and desolation. Horatio put his sunglasses back on, settling them firmly on the bridge of his nose as if doing so, inflicting a minor pain, would take away the memory of the much greater pain that still haunted him. His jaw muscles clenched as he fought for control of his voice before going on.  
  
"Halfway to the office was a coffee shop your mother had always liked. It was in a bad area, but they baked scones there fresh every morning and every now and then she just had to go by and get some. One of the witnesses, a man who was in the coffee shop that morning when she came in, said that he had seen a car cruising up and down the street earlier, and had wondered what was going on. Calleigh bought a box of scones, she was apparently taking them in to the office for everyone, and a cup of coffee, and went back out to her car. The witness saw a young man walking down the street in the direction of the parking lot, and then realized that the car he'd seen earlier was back. It sped down the street, and just as it came level with the pedestrian, the driver slammed on the brakes. The witness realized what was happening, and ducked. He heard a gun open up, several rounds were fired, and then the tires screamed and the car raced off."  
  
"Everything had happened so fast that no one could get a license plate or tell us anything other than the color and a general description of the car. Our main witness and the owner of the coffee shop ran out to the street to see if there was anything they could do. They found the young man, the pedestrian, dead on the sidewalk, and your mother lying across the front seat of the car. She'd been caught by a stray round." His voice caught again, and he heaved a deep sigh. "There – there was nothing anyone could do for her."  
  
He was still there, remembering the heat in that grimy parking lot when they had finally been allowed in, the glare of the sun off the pavement, and the silent stares of the crowd watching as his team processed what parts of the scene they had been allowed to see. A soft touch on his arm pulled him back to the present, though, and he realized that his daughter was gently stroking his arm in the same rhythm her mother had used to soothe her when she was an infant.  
  
"Did they find the guys who did it?"  
  
Horatio let out a bitter laugh. "We found the guy. They wouldn't let us work the site while she was still there, and they wouldn't let Alexx do the autopsy. The other team processed everything to do with your mother and then turned it all over to us." He paused, collecting his composure. "The hardest part was getting that little envelope from the ME, and realizing that the bullet it held had taken the life of the best person we had to identify the weapon that had fired it. I wouldn't let anyone else do that job, the only thing that kept me going at work was finding the SOB who had fired off that round.  
  
"Of course, the fancy driving the shooter had done left tire tracks behind, and Speed identified the specific brand of tires. Eric got the ID of the other victim, the pedestrian, and put a history together. The kid had been tapped for a gang initiation and had told them no. This was their way of getting back at him. Within an hour we had matched that gun to five other shootings, all gang-related, because we had – Calleigh had – already scanned the bullets from those other shootings into IBIS. Speed liaised with the gang task force, we got an ID from that unit of a rising star in a local gang, and we put together a water-tight case."  
  
"So then what happened?"  
  
"The shooter's sister turned him in. He told her he'd been out getting cigarettes, but she could smell the gunpowder on him. Once she heard about the shootings on the radio, she realized he'd been feuding with the dead kid in the past, and was terrified that he'd somehow been involved. She called us, and showed us where he hid his guns. I took all of them to the lab and tested them..." he paused again, remembering how painful it had been to use the firing range that he, and all the team, so strongly identified as Calleigh's territory. "I got a match from the first gun I fired, and his prints were all over it."  
  
"Did it go to trial?"  
  
"No, he pled guilty and got a lighter sentence. We'd actually taken him to the layout room and showed him what we had against him, not just on these two killings but on all the other ones as well, and he caved. It kept him off death row, but he's never getting out of jail under his own power.  
  
"And ever since then, every single day, I've regretted everything that your mother and I said to each other that day. None of that had to happen, if only the two of us hadn't had a stupid argument. God, Bella, I am so sorry for taking your mother away from you like that." He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, wishing that it could have been him in that parking lot instead of Calleigh. 


	7. chapter 7

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Lisabella's arms went around Calleigh fiercely. "Mom, it wasn't your fault. You said yourself he was stubborn, and if you'd both gotten up in bad moods and then he decided he wanted to be upset, there wasn't anything you could do to change it." Her mother's tears didn't slacken with this, though, and she wondered what more she could say. "You didn't twist one arm up behind his back and march him out to the car, did you? And belt him in and start it for him? You didn't push him in front of the car, right? Mom, it's just not your fault."  
  
Calleigh sat up and smiled through her tears at her daughter. "Honey, I know in here," tapping her head, "that it's not my fault. But in here," resting her hand above her heart, "it's a different story. If we hadn't argued, he wouldn't have left for work so early. If we hadn't argued, he wouldn't have stopped off to buy flowers, and he wouldn't have been hit. All because we had some stupid argument!"  
  
"What about the rest of the team? Did they blame you?"  
  
"No, they didn't. We were all so devastated, we barely even discussed why he was there that morning. By the time it did come up, we were trying to put ourselves back together as a functioning team. We really all turned into one family...just a family with a Horatio-shaped hole in it."  
  
"So has anyone ever blamed you, other than you yourself?"  
  
"No, no one ever has. But over the last fourteen years, I've looked back so often and wished that I'd acted earlier on what I felt for him, and wished that things had happened differently that last morning. There have been so many times I've wished I could take back everything I said then, but I never can. And sometimes it just tears me apart that the last things I said to him were something mean and hateful."  
  
"Oh, mom. I wish I could remember him better, all I can remember is these little, almost like photographs or freeze-frame shots, usually of the three of us together. But I do remember that I never felt anything but happy, and safe, and loved. I know that he loved you, and I'm sure that if he could, he'd tell you that he'd never blamed you for what happened."  
  
"I know that, love. But how do I stop blaming myself?" She sat back against the bench and looked up at the sky. The sun had shifted while she and Lisabella had sat talking, but the tree still shaded them from the worst of it. "How do I not blame myself?"  
  
A breeze sprang up again, and one branch of the Japanese maple tree above them dipped with the air current, dipped far enough to brush its delicate red-gold leaves tenderly against Calleigh's tear-stained face. Suddenly she felt a once-familiar love, a love she had not felt in fourteen years, spreading from the caress of the leaves against her face to surround her. She felt somehow more at peace now, whether it was from the soft caress of the leaves or from talking with someone else about what she had kept buried for so long she did not know. She smiled upwards, into the crimson-leafed branches above her.  
  
"Thank you, Handsome." 


	8. chapter 8

Told in a Garden  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, concepts, or names in here. The only thing I own is the idea expressed in this story. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Author's Note: Suppose one random decision gives rise to two separate but parallel universes. What might happen in those two universes?  
  
Lisabella's arms went around him in a gentle hug. "Dad, it wasn't your fault. You said yourself she was stubborn about things, and if she'd decided to be stubborn that morning there was nothing you could do to change it." Her father's muscles were still tense, though. She could tell that he still blamed himself, and she wondered what more she could say. "You didn't twist one arm up behind her back and march her out to the car, did you? And belt her in and start the engine for her? You didn't pull the trigger on that gun. Dad, it's not your fault."  
  
Horatio turned his head slightly towards his daughter, and raised one eyebrow. "Bella, I know in here," tapping his temple, "that it's not my fault. But here," resting one hand above his heart, "it's a different story. If we hadn't argued, she wouldn't have left for work so early. And if we hadn't argued, she wouldn't have stopped for coffee, and that one stray round wouldn't have hit her. All because of a stupid argument!"  
  
"What about the rest of the team? Did they blame you?"  
  
"No, they never did. We were all so devastated, we barely even discussed what she'd been doing there. By the time it did come up, we were trying to put ourselves back together as a functioning team. We really all just pulled together into one family...just a family with a Calleigh-shaped hole in it."  
  
"So has anyone ever blamed you for it, other than yourself?"  
  
"No, no one has. But over the last fourteen years, I've looked back so often and wished that I'd acted earlier on what I felt for her, and wished that things had happened differently that last morning. There have been so many times I've wished I could take back everything I said then, but I never can. And sometimes it just tears me apart that the last things I said to her were something mean and hateful."  
  
"Oh, Dad. I wish I could remember her better, all I can remember is these little, almost like photographs or freeze-frame shots, usually of the three of us together. But I do remember that I never felt anything but happy, and safe, and loved. I know that she loved you, and I'm sure that if she could, she'd tell you that she'd never blamed you for what happened."  
  
"I know that, Bella. But how do I stop blaming myself?" He sat back against the bench and looked up at the sky. The sun had shifted while he and Lisabella had sat talking, but the tree still shaded them from the worst of it. "How do I not blame myself?"  
  
The hum of the bumble bees droned louder, as the breeze died and the leaves of the almond tree ceased their whispering dance. One particular bumblebee buzzed away from the lavender blossom it had been investigating. Taking to the air in a dizzying spiral, it bumped gently against Horatio's face, circled in front of him, and then flew off. Suddenly he felt a once- familiar love, a love he had not felt in fourteen years, spreading from that one careless contact of the bee against his face and surrounding him. He felt somehow more at peace now, whether it was from talking with someone else about what he had kept buried for so long, or from something more than real, something outside his understanding, he did not know.  
  
"Dad, you OK?"  
  
He smiled. "I am now." 


End file.
